


Rule of Three

by haawk



Series: when they pulled me from the cold [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:02:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haawk/pseuds/haawk
Summary: rumarin's making friends and fengari's making plans. inigo is an unfortunate passenger along for the ride
Relationships: Dovahkiin | Dragonborn & Inigo the Brave, Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Rumarin, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Rumarin
Series: when they pulled me from the cold [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033335
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Rule of Three

Really, Windhelm was quite a nice city and really, the locals were lovely and really, the weather was just fantastic, absolutely wonderful! Fengari ignored another thinly-veiled insult about her being a Aldmer spy thrown in her direction (are Nords _really_ too stupid to tell the difference between Bosmer and Altmer?) and walked out of the inn, only to be greeted with the freezing air that had led her to the inn in the first place. Fucking great.

“Are we finally leaving? I do not like it here.” Inigo caught up with her as she walked toward the front gate.

“We’re off to retrieve a magic bottle or some shit.” Fengari said. “That old codger better pay up, too. I’m not running a charity.”

Inigo smiled at her grumbling. “You say that, my friend, but you’ve never once taken the full pay for a job.

She frowned at him, “Have I really not? Maybe this _is_ a charity—after all, I let you travel with me, didn’t I?

\--

In hindsight, the overturned wagons and eerie silence was probably a good hint that there were bandits about. Fengari wished she had realized sooner and drawn her bow; close combat was not her strong suit, something Inigo was constantly hounding her about. Stupid mistake—if she picked them off from a distance while Inigo rushed in, there’s no way the bandits would be winning the fight. Ducking under a clumsy war pick swing, Fengari straightened and desperately looked for somewhere to run. _No, no, no, wait- yes!_ Fengari gave a silent prayer, thanking Arkay for the Nords’ love of tomb-building.

“Inigo! Make a run for that ruin!” She struggled to be heard over the fighting and clanging weapons.

“Right behind you, my friend!”

They took off, the snowy terrain as much of a hindrance as ever, and scrambled on hands and knees up the hill. Loud swearing let the pair know that the bandits were right behind them. As they crested the hill and turned around, Fengari summoned a clumsy fireball, hoping the bandits’ fear of magic would win out over her general lack of mageyness, and almost dropped the spell in shock as she watched them scramble to get away.

“Yeah, that’s right! You better run! I’ll get you with—” _SLAM_. All the wind was knocked out of Fengari as something tackled her into the ground, snow flying up and obscuring her vision. She struggled against her attacker, scrabbling at their sides in vain as she attempted to gain some leverage over them. Vaguely, she could hear Inigo yelling and something being…conjured?

_Wait a damn minute, has he been holding out on me? A conjuration mage? When was he planning on sharing that little secret? I swear, I’ll—_

But Fengari didn’t have time to finish the though before a sword was slicing straight through her attacker and a hand was thrust towards her. She grabbed it (f _reezing cold, static-y_ ), hauling herself up and out of the snow, speaking before she was even fully upright or had caught her breath.

Searching for her daggers in the snow and breathing hard, she scowled, “I mean, far be it from me to get angry over a teensy little secret, but being a mage? Really Inigo?”

“That was not—”

“I’m not asking for a lot, just a little ‘oh, by the by, in addition to being a skilled swordsman and archer, I’m also a completely amazing expert conjuration mage’ and I would’ve said ‘why, thanks so much for the heads up, it really does mean a lot that you share these things with me’.”

Fengari turned towards the hand currently helping her stand and found herself looking at robes. _Huh. This is…probably not Inigo._ Her eyes traveled up until they met gold skin and gold eyes and—okay, _definitely_ not Inigo. She was suddenly uncomfortably aware of her hand in his and the blush rising in her cheeks and the way his robes smelled like smoke and sulfur. Loudly clearing her throat, she stepped away and attempted to brush all the snow off her armor. The stranger stooped down to examine something on the ground.

“You know, you have to wonder what the Nords are eating that makes their centuries old dead so strong. I mean, if I was a shambling skeleton, just a weak breeze would be enough to blow me apart.” He straightened up and smiled at her, taking his hood off as he did. “Oh, but pardon me—the name’s Rumarin; professional blade binder, adventurer, and tomb robber.”

“Fengari. And this is Inigo.” Rumarin inclined his head toward Inigo, not even batting an eye at the odd pair. “Ah, what exactly is a blade binder?”

“It’s right there in the name. I take and bind weapons from Oblivion. I believe your comments about being a—what was it? ‘Expert conjuration mage?’—were meant for me.”

Fengari looked sheepishly at Inigo, who was good natured enough to only cock an eyebrow at her. “Right. Thanks for stabbing that thing.” Rumarin quirked his mouth and bowed slightly. _Oh, good. I would have to come across the most dramatic elf to ever live_ , Fengari thought. Out loud, she asked, “What brings you to this part of Skyrim? Can’t be the locals.”

“I’m staying with a friend; he’s Windhelm’s stable master. And in my spare time, I’m robbing—sorry, _researching_ Nord tombs. The undead are only a slight disturbance, usually.”

Fengari snorted, “All that gold they insist on leaving about— _someone_ ought to make use of it.” Inigo looked mildly uncomfortable about the topic at hand, not being much a fan of tombs and horrible underground ruins.

Rumarin nodded emphatically in agreement. “Honestly! The Nords should really consider burning their dead. Has to be more economical than all… _this_.” He gestured vaguely to the ruin behind them. “It might make opening urns a bit more harrowing. But hey—you nearly got murdered by bandits and an overly aggressive skeleton; you get the first shot at robbing this tomb. A consolation prize, of sorts.”

A quick glance at Inigo told Fengari that he was amenable to this plan. She was too, if it meant they would be out of the blasted cold for a few moments. Honestly, what was the guild thinking, making their armor fingerless gloves?

Fengari made short work of the lock despite her frostbitten fingers, earning her an approving grunt from Inigo and a surprised hum from Rumarin. The meagre loot she and Inigo split with Rumarin, but he seemed more interested in the tomb itself, rather than the treasures it contained. Fengari chalked it up to his college robes and bid him goodbye. They still had that stupid vial to find.

\--

Spending hours fighting through a crypt to retrieve one little bottle was hardly Fengari’s idea of a good time, but they had finally found it, despite it being broken. Fengari was feeling pretty confident in she and Inigo’s teamwork as they trudged back to Windhelm. Rumarin was out, apparently getting an early start on his scholarship; she waved to him as they passed the stables and he seemed genuinely surprised to see someone glad at his presence. To say Nurelion was pleased with their work would be…incorrect, to say the least, but the gold his assistant had slipped them was a wonderful weight in Fengari’s pack as they walked back through the market district.

After buying breakfast from a stall and sitting down on a shop’s front step to eat it, Fengari’s brilliant idea was fully realized.

“Hey, Inigo?” Inigo looked up from a mouthful of food and gestured for her to continue as he took another bite. “I want to invite Rumarin to adventure with us.”

Inigo inhaled the bite he’d just taken. Coughing, he choked out, “Really? The elf we just met? The one we know almost nothing about? _That’s_ who you want to start traveling with?”

Fengari nodded.

“My friend, I know I said I’d follow your lead, but your lead is starting to seem…ill-advised.”

Fengari continued to stare at Inigo from under her brow, pouting and giving it her best performance. Inigo held out as long as he could (which wasn’t very long, to be completely honest) before caving and sighing out, “Fine! But if I end up dead, I’m going to be very upset.”

Fengari clapped her hands together and grinned, “Don’t worry. If he kills you, I’ll just kill him back.”

Inigo cocked an eyebrow at her, “And if he kills you as well, Fen?”

“Then I’ll haunt him forever. Simple as that.”

**Author's Note:**

> i've had such bad writer's block lately but starting a new skyrim playthrough has given me new inspiration. it's 4 am and i can't tell if this is cute cheesy or bad cheesy.
> 
> fengari is from cyrodiil (i'm thinking anvil) and her parents met when they fought together during the great war. she's actually only half-bosmer, but since elder scrolls phylogeny says they look like the mother no one can tell her dad was a nord so she's having a great time in skyrim. i think they're still alive during the events of skyrim but she's also got memory loss from the whole inigo backstory debacle, so who can really say?
> 
> comments and advice/criticism are always welcome!


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